


And Everything in Between

by bookwormyangel



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M, SoMa Week 2014, cleaning out the fanfiction.net account
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 08:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10433577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormyangel/pseuds/bookwormyangel
Summary: Compilation of oneshots for Soma Week 2014.





	1. Day 1: Roommates

She sees the ad stuck to a tack board in the small coffee shop downtown, covered by a found dog poster and tucked against the corner of a small local band. It's simple enough, a regular, plain white sheet of computer paper with blocky black letters announcing a room for rent just outside of Death City University. An email was given in a small, less noticeable size.

Looking around, Maka absently twirls a strand of hair around her finger, the dirty blonde soft against her fingertips. She reaches her other hand out, fingertips brushing the underside of the paper. It would take a single breath to yank it from the board. It would be easy to carry it to Tsu's little apartment and email this Soul guy, she notes quickly, glancing at the paper.

Before she can rethink it, the paper is in her hand, fluttering in the light wind as she walks briskly back to Tsu's.

Maka is sitting on the small sofa, her legs crossed with her crappy laptop sitting perched on her knees, when Tsubaki walks in the front door, throwing her keys on the small table by the door and dropping her small bag onto the floor. She locks eyes with Maka and smiles gently.

Maka and Tsubaki had been friends forever, Tsubaki just being a little over a year older than her. When she left for DCU, she got a small apartment by herself. It wasn't much, a tiny kitchen with an even tinier fridge and several cabinets stocked with quick and easy foods. The living room was moderate in size, with cream carpet and a small brown sofa Maka had called a bed for the past three days. A small coffee table rested in front of the sofa and the TV barely got any channels. Behind the couch, off of a small hallway, were two doors, one leading to a cramped bathroom and another to Tsubaki's room.

"Thanks for letting me stay here, Tsu," Maka said, her fingers stilling over the illuminated keyboard.

"Of course!" She responded cheerfully, walking to sit on the open side of the sofa. Her eyes drooped slightly as she leaned back, throwing her ponytail over the back of the sofa. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice calm and serene.

Maka hesitated. She was beyond grateful for Tsubaki letting her stay here before classes started. But the apartment was so small, and Tsubaki was so busy, Maka wasn't sure how to tell her about the room.

"I found a room for rent, just outside school," she began hesitantly. "It's not too expensive and it's just a few blocks away from downtown."

Tsubaki peeked open an eye, and smiled, a warm and friendly smile. "Really? It sounds great."

"I really appreciate you letting me stay here, Tsu-" Maka began, but was cut off when Tsubaki waved her hand.

"It's no big deal, Maka. We established long before you got here that this was only temporary. I'm not mad. In fact, I'm happy you've found a place. This sofa doesn't make the best bed," she laughed, her eyes warm.

Smiling, Maka laughed along, quickly finishing her email while Tsuabki went to take a shower.

The next morning, Maka was getting out of the shower when her phone dinged from the coffee table. Illuminating the screen was a tiny blue icon with an envelope.

She had gotten a reply. Swinging the towel around her shoulders, Maka wrapped her hair up and ran the towel through it quickly, before letting her damp lock fall across her back. Throwing her legs over the back of the sofa, she slipped onto the cushions and grabbed her phone, unlocking it in one swift motion.

The email was short, stating he wouldn't mind renting her out the room, but he wanted to go over minor details, and included the address of the coffee place and a time. Smiling, Maka jumped off the sofa, riffling through one of her numerous suitcases for something to wear.

Tsubaki came out of her room a mere five minutes later and almost fell, flat on her face, after tripping over a shirt.

"Wha-" she started, then laughed when she saw Maka, holding clothes up then throwing them away. Maka looked at her amused friend, her face a pink hue.

"What do I _wear_ , Tsubaki!" she panicked, throwing a pink shirt over her shoulder. Still laughing, Tsubaki plucked some clothes off of the floor. It was so unlike Maka to fret over _clothes_ , of all things.

"What's wrong with what you usually wear?" she questioned, sitting on the edge of the sofa.

"I want to make an impression!" Maka said, twirling a now dry curl around her finger.

"Alright," Tsubaki said, standing up and picking through a suitcase. "Then what about this," she said pulling out a dark pair of jeans and a loose green blouse the matched her eyes. "And wear your hair like that."

Smiling, Maka hugged her friend and took the clothes out of her extended grasp, rushing to change in the bathroom.

At the coffee shop, Maka ordered a small tea, and sipped on it lazily, watching the door. In his email, Soul had given a little description; white hair and red eyes. She doubted she would miss him walk in.

She started tapping her foot, pulling out her phone a checking the time. Soul was ten minutes late. While she was watching the time, the door opened with a little tingling noise, and she whipped her head around, her hair swinging from shoulder to shoulder. Standing in the doorway was Soul.

Like his email had said, he had brilliantly white hair, and his red eyes drooped, like he was tired. Maka noticed sharp teeth when he smiled at the barista, who immediately blushed a deep crimson. He was wearing a worn pair of jeans, the color almost faded completely from the knees, and a black t-shirt that hugged his chest. When he noticed Maka, he gave her a small smile and made his way over to the table tucked into the corner, by the window.

"Hey, name's Soul," he said, voice a deep rumble as he slipped into the chair across from her.

"Maka,"she replied, a smile falling onto her face.

They stayed there for over three hours, talking about rent to who would pay what, and then about classes and jobs. Soul was a music student, working part-time at a recording studio on the outskirts of town. He laughed when Maka told him she was an English student, but he quickly shut up when she kicked him under the table.

After sunset, they walked out of the now empty coffee shop, where Soul leaned against an orange motorcycle. "So, you can move in tomorrow?"

With a smile, Maka nodded.

The next day, Tsubaki and Maka were moving her boxes, when Soul showed up, white hair windblown from his bike, with a black truck in tow.

Getting off the bike, Maka took in the light brown shorts, flip flops and white t-shirt he wore. Behind the orange bike, the black truck screeched to a halt, and a loud man with wild blue hair jumped out of the driver’s side.

"Maka," Soul introduced. "This is Black Star, Black Star, Maka."

"She's pretty flat," Black Star stage whispered, to which Maka flushed a bright red and hit him on the head with the nearest weapon; a Harry Potter book.

Soul rolled his eyes as his friend rubbed his head.

Tsubaki laughed as Maka introduced her to Soul. Noticing Tsubaki, Black Star flushed, his cheeks warming slightly.

It took only a few hours to move all of Maka's possessions to the back of the truck. Most of the time was spent between Maka and Soul snickering at Black Star's attempts to hit on Tsubaki.

(Though his attempts must've worked because Tsubaki called later that night to tell Maka they were going out for lunch the next day.)

When the truck was loaded, Maka finished tying down the ropes and closed the back of the trunk.

"Alright, ready when you guys are," she yelled over her shoulder, loose hairs from her ponytail sticking to her sweaty neck and shoulders. Despite her sweat, Tsubaki rushed over and gave her friend a tight squeeze. "I'll see you at school," she whispered, pulling away.

Maka smiled and made her way over to Soul, who was leaning on his bike, a helmet in his hands. He smiled, holding it out to Maka as she gulped. As much as she hated motorcycles, she did not want to ride in a car with Black Star. Grumbling, she placed it on her head with a loud click as Soul kicked the stand and threw his leg over, looking behind him to make sure Maka climbed on.

The apartment was farther from Tsubaki's than she had originally thought, but not by too much that she couldn't walk there. They unloaded everything into the living room, dumping boxes and suitcases in any open space.

Maka didn't notice much about it first, what with all the boxes in the way and the rushing in and out to empty the truck.

But when they finished, Maka was struck with how nice it was. The living room was spacious, with a long sofa and a matching chair. There was a flat screen TV hanging above a small two shelf book case with four elongated shelves, but instead of books, there was a DVD player, some movies and a few video games. There were three doors in a small hallway, two beside each other and a third beside a small linen closet. The kitchen was much bigger than Tsubaki's, and the kitchen was fully stocked with an assortment of foods, including a fridge, full to bursting.

But what really captivated Maka was the baby grand piano in the corner of the living room. The top was sleek black, reflecting all of the bent up boxes and Maka's own disheveled face.

"Ready to unpack?" Soul marched in, dropping the last box on the sofa, sweat dripping down his nose, and Maka nodded, opening the door to her new room.

Maka thought living with a stranger was going to be awkward, but their friendship quickly evolved.

Maka would roll out of bed 6:30 sharp, shower, and begin breakfast. Soul would sluggish walk into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes at around 7:15, breakfast hot in front of him. Soul would shower, then take Maka to DCU for her eight o'clock class, though his first class wasn't until 10.

In the evenings, Soul would show of his "culinary skills" by burning noodles, cursing, and eventually ordering take-out.

(Maka eventually starts cooking dinners every so often.)

Two months in, Maka picks up a job at DeathBucks. The hours are strange, sometimes from nine in the morning to five in the afternoon, to 6 in the morning to closing, at ten o'clock. Soul will come home from the recording studio and find her asleep, face pressed to her books, and papers fluttering with her little snores. When Soul goes to wake her up, her head lolls on his shoulder and he ends up carrying her to bed, her little body cradled protectively to his chest.

Five months in and he's waiting for her at the end of her classes, leaning against the wall, prepared to scoop up her books as she waddles out of class with a pencil in her mouth and three to four books perched precariously in her arms as she tries to shove papers into her bag. It takes her by surprise at first, but soon enough, she's walking out of class and shoving all of her books into his waiting arms and swinging her backpack onto her shoulders.

After seven months, she's stealing his clothes. He doesn't notice at first, because she does the laundry and if it smells clean, he wears it. Then one day his favorite t-shirt is gone. He doesn't want to admit it, but he's panicked. That shirt was broken in perfectly and was so comfortable. _Damnit!_ He curses to himself when he has literally torn his room apart and has his face stuck under the bed. It isn't until he pulls himself up that he sees Maka, dirty blonde locks in a loose bun and toothbrush in hand. And on her petite body, the missing orange shirt with the worn logo of his favorite band. He smirks, and Maka swallows, before taking off in the opposite direction. Soul corners her on the couch, straddles her hips, careful not to squish her, and tickles her sides relentlessly. Her face is a lovely shade of pink and she's so warm and she's thrashing…And then she slips, hair falling out of its bun, and in a desperate attempt to catch her, Soul's hand slide further up her body.

_ Sweet Shinigami _ , she sleeps without a bra.

After the accidental groping, their relationship takes a turn.

Maka wears his jacket and one of his old beanies in the winter, her small frame dwarfed by his large clothes. He walks her to class and carries her backpack and books. Sometimes, when they're walking through campus or in the halls, their fingers brush, or their shoulders bump, and for a few brief seconds their pinky finger twine before Maka blushes and pulls away, continuing on about a project or the girls' nights out she has every month.

After nine months, Soul kisses her.

It isn't a soft, gentle kiss. It's hard and rough and full of passion and anger. They were arguing, and getting heated, when Soul grabbed her forearms and rammed her against her door, his lips hungry against hers. Maka squeaked, before kissing him back just as harshly, grabbing two tiny fistfuls of his black shirt and pulling him harder against her. He growls, large hands groping her thighs as he lifts them up and pulls her hard against him.

"I'm so pissed at you," she pants, trailing bites down his neck between words.

He groans, "Same here," before biting under her ear.

The next morning, Tsubaki and Black Star notice Maka's poor job of hiding a few hickies.

"That's weird," Black Star said, hand on his chin. "I thought you were already sleeping together."

Soul smirks, and Maka beats him with her math textbook.


	2. Day 2: Nosebleed

He had considered himself lucky. He had been living with Maka for almost four years and she hadn't walked in on him during those awkward pre-pubescent mornings when he had a boner that stretched sky high or when he was _busy._

Soul knows it's pure luck and he's just waiting for the day for it to wear off.

It happens in late spring. He rolls out of bed, eyes still closed as he shuffles his way to the bathroom. His bare feet run the carpet and his pajama bottoms hang low enough to skim the bottom of his feet. The apartment is cool with air conditioning. Grasping the gold colored door knob, he pushes open the bathroom door and shuffles in.

It's Monday morning and he's tired and just wants to _sleep_.

Picking up his toothbrush, he lathers on the white minty paste. Looking up, he uses his open hand to brush away steam from the mirror, carrying on brushing his teeth with drowsy red eyes.

He realizes what's strange about this morning when he spits out the paste.

There was steam on the mirror and he could hear the light tinkling of running water.

_ Oh, shit, _ __ he thinks is a flurry, turning his back and reaching out for the door handle.

In his haste, he doesn't notice the discarded clothes and his foots gets caught in..

_ Are those her panties?! _ __ Soul feels his eyes bulge as he takes in the bright red undergarments. His back slams on to the floor, Maka's other discarded nightclothes providing a tiny cushion. Scrambling to his feet, Soul hurry's for the knob. Taking it into his grasp, he yanks it, but the door doesn't budge. Panicking, and slightly scared for his head, he uses both hands to twist when the shower shuts off.

Soul blinks as the thin white towel travels from the edge of the shower.

Humming a tune he doesn't recognize, Maka steps out of the shower, petite body barely covered by the threadbare towel. She's turning around from closing the white curtain, when her emerald eyes slam into Soul, still desperately clinging to the door.

For what feels like hours, they're staring at each other, neither one daring to move. Soul's breaths are shallow and he can't help but wonder if Maka is even breathing at all.

He swallows, moving his eyes.

And that's a mistake.

Maka's body is barely covered, her boobs poking out from above the towel and Soul takes in the sight with shock.

They were round and pink and _tiny,_ but he could imagine what it would be like to have her underneath him, how they would feel in his hands, the soft skin against his rough hands.

He feels the dribble before Maka registers what she's showing and in a breath she's screaming.

"YOU PERVERT!" she yells, grabbing the towel and contorting her body in weird positions to hide everything she can. All the while, Soul has a steady stream of blood pouring out of his nose, coating his lips. His mouth moves, but he's fairly certain he looks like a fish out of water.

Maka rushes at him, forcing his head away and cursing him to every damnable place she's ever heard of. With an angry Maka pounding on his back, Soul manages to recapture thought processes and yanks the doorknob so hard, the door opens and he falls onto the floor, Maka falling with him.

He lands with a thud, having nothing but carpet to pad his fall, and Maka lands on top of him, wet hair splashing his face and bare chest. Water dribbles down her nose to land on his chin, comingling with the steady stream of red, and Soul can't help the few flashes of pink he sees as the towel slips even more.

He can feel her skin, still damp from the shower. His hands glide over her hips, her pink skin tinged with the scent of vanilla. Maka's legs are straddling his hips, tightening when his fingertips brush over her lower hips.

His pajama pants always hang low because he just throws them on in the morning. But with Maka on top of him, they hang even lower as she begins to squirm out of his grasp.

She bustles off of his chest, the towel providing Soul with glimpses he'll see for weeks afterwards, and runs to her room, whispering obscenities, whether at herself or him, he isn't sure.

Soul lies there for several minutes after, blood from his nose slipping between his lips. Sighing, he pushes himself up, tiny smile on his lips. When he goes to walk, however, he stumbles.

Around his right ankle are Maka's bright red panties.


	3. Day 3: Insanity

Maka starts awake when the candle at her bedside flickers, then dies out. The heavy rain that had started earlier that day had not let up, fat raindrops landing on her small home's thin roof, the wind pushing against the windows.  
Her breath puffs in front of her face, every blanket she owns pulled up to her chin. Loose locks slip onto her face as her eyes begin to droop once more, the cold barely registering with her.  
It isn't until Maka hears thumping outside does she jump awake. Lying up on her bed, her green eyes skitter from corner to corner, looking everywhere. Up on her loft, nothing seems out of place, the only other noise coming from the rattling wind.  
Slipping from underneath the warm layers of blankets, bare feet padding to a small hook by the ladder, Maka scoops up her scarlet cloak, throwing it over her shoulders and throwing the hood up, securing it with two strings under her neck. Carefully, she makes her way down the ladder, making sure nothing was in her cottage.  
The fireplace was empty, the ash from her last fire still sitting there, smoking only slightly. Mismatched chairs sat in front of a large wooden table. On top of the table were herbs and mixtures, many of which Maka made on her own. Her few shelves in the back of the cottage contained more herbs and plants, plus food.  
At the door, the thumping could be heard clearly, along with grunts and pants. Gulping, Maka reached for pale by the door, containing her gardening supplies. She pulled out an old rounded scythe and let it slip comfortably into her grip.  
Grasping the door handle, Maka pushed against it slightly, stepping into the full light of the full moon, obscured by the pulsing rain.  
Heart beating fast and blood rushing in her ears, she scans the trees, water running down her face, her neck. The moon's casts a strange glow on everything, making it appear ethereal. Brown tree bark seems silver and the leaves almost match the green of her eyes. The dirt around the front door seems undisturbed and her garden unruffled. Her bare feet skim the soft dirt, practically mud, as she turns, facing the edge of the cottage.  
Before she can register it, a huge, looming figure barrels at her, pale white silver hair glimmering in the moonlight, but plastered to his head by the water. He barrels into her chest, knocking every breath out of her lungs and slamming her onto the forest floor.  
She heaves; chest trying, and failing, to expand, as large hands grasp her hips. Her eyes snap open, meeting the pitch black ones of her assailant. His snarl is loud in her ears as he flashes Maka sharp teeth.  
They could easily rip someone's throat out.  
Scared, and full adrenaline, Maka shoves his chest, the scythe catching onto the dirtied white fabric and slicing it down the side. He yelps, rolling off of her and jumping up, kicking the scythe out of her shaking hand. Maka jumps, running to the scythe as the beast from before lunges, his hands clamping on her and shoving her down.  
Mud is in her nose and she tastes it in her mouth, along with the coppery tang of blood. Her toes scoop up mud as she buries them to get some leverage, body heaving with the effort. Maka reaches out her arm, only to be stopped by a much larger on lying on top. With the surge of adrenaline, she shoves her other arm back, her sharp elbow hitting the beast square in the nose. She hears things pop and a groan, before she's sprinting up and brandishing the scythe in one fell swoop.  
Lying on the ground, partially obscured by rain and mud, was a man. His chest was barely moving, and Maka wondered briefly if he was dead. White hair was splattered with patches of mud, and his shirt stuck to his skin. Torn pants covered him to his knees. He was barefoot.  
Maka walked carefully towards him, leaning down and preparing to poke him with the scythe, when his hand reached out and captured her wrist. Dropping the scythe in surprise, she tried to pull away but was stopped when a husky voice breathed, "Please, help me."  
His eyes were open, if only barely, and Maka almost jerked back again.  
They weren't black. They were red.  
The next morning, Soul awoke on a wooden table, with absolutely no memory of how he got there. Prying his eyes open, he took in the tiny, yet homey space. A fireplace was roaring, something like stew already heating above it. Chairs littered the open space in front of him and he smelled a multitude of herbs.  
Moving to sit up, he groaned.  
"I wouldn't do that," someone commanded, stepping from a ladder.  
She was dirty, everything covered in mud. Her hair was matted and tangled, and she had bags under her eyes. She was unnaturally pale.  
Though her body was dirty, the loose white dress she wore was immaculate.  
"Where am I?" Soul asked calmly, his hands raised in an offer of peace.  
"Middle of nowhere, population: me," the girl responded, walking to two buckets sitting side by side to the left of the table.  
She dipped a small bowl into one and pulled it out when water splashed over the sides. Without a sound, she padded over to him, holding it out. "You need to drink this."  
Observing her face, Soul took the offered drink and gulped it down.  
The girl had spring green eyes and round cheeks. Freckles dotted the bridge of her nose to the outsides of both cheeks. Her lips were puckered and chapped and there was a bruise he didn't notice before on the side of her neck, near her ear. Moving his eyes quickly down her body, he notices several scratches underneath mud-caked feet and several on her pale legs.  
"What happened?" he began tentatively, looking at his own body and assessing the damage. In addition to all of his old scars and bruises, he noticed several new scratches, including an inflamed trek down his right side. Moving his nose, he felt dried mud and tasted a trail of dried blood. He felt his nose and reached up, rubbing at its soreness. There was a small bruise under his right eye.  
"You attacked me." The girl responded, eyes flashing.  
(in fear?)  
"I don't-I don't remember." Soul said, almost in a whisper.  
The girl said nothing, before walking away. She moved with animal like grace; quick, silent and gracefully. Pulling some mixed herbs from a bowl, she walked back.  
"Lie down," she demanded, gesturing to the table.  
He obliged, eyes still attached to her as she began smothering the healing herbs on him.  
"Why are you helping me?" He was a monster. A mutant. An experiment. He didn't deserve her kindness.  
She looked at him, eyes full of questions but also passion. "Because you asked," she whispered.  
Over the course of the next few hours, he found out her name was Maka and she'd lived in this cottage for almost a year. She made her living by mixing herbs, baking and cooking, then selling everything. She also told him she had to lug him inside late last night, and, after warming up to him, admitted to dropping him three times, his prone limbs doing nothing to help.  
All he told her was his name was Soul.  
He wanted to leave. He ached to leave. He knew he was a danger and, after what she told him about last night, didn't doubt he could do serious damage.  
Soul had tried telling Maka that he needed to go, before he really hurt her.  
(or killed her)  
But she insisted on making him stay the night. "I need to keep an eye on your scratches," she had said, eyeing how they were already and inflamed red, though hers were almost worse. Maka had her feet wrapped, more herbs tucked against the bottom.  
That night, when she had forced him onto the bed, saying she'd take the biggest chair downstairs, he prepared to flee.  
He slipped down the ladder as silently as he could, his hulking frame dwarfing the small wooden ladder and making it hard to climb. He stopped short when he saw Maka, her dainty frame shivering uncontrollably underneath a blood red cloak.  
Suddenly overcome with a protectiveness he didn't know he had, he scooped her up, her body contorting easily to his huge chest. Her hair pooled underneath her head, and he could feel its softness from when she went to the back and washed up that afternoon. Her bandaged feet hung limply from his other arm, swaying back and forth as he took her up the ladder, easily carrying her with one arm.  
She mumbled when he tucked her into bed, her brow creasing.  
He leaned down, smoothing his thumb over her fragile cheek.  
Her heartbeat was loud in his ears. He could hear every breath she took as her chest moved slowly and rhythmically. He could see her pule flutter at her throat, almost imagine the blood running under her skin.  
(oh how easy it would be to lean over and rip her throat out)  
He jumped, breath hard as it pushed its way from his lungs.  
She rolled in her sleep, a sigh escaping her lips.  
In a flash, Soul felt humanity slipping away. He felt his body disconnect from his head, felt his pule rise with need. He could feel his body tightening, ready to spring.  
With a primitive growl, he leaped onto the bed, pinning Maka's wrists above her head with his huge hands.  
Maka's eyes flew open, panic and fear running across her face.  
(Soul felt her heart speed up smelled the adrenaline pumping through her delicate system felt her warm breath on his chest)  
Growling he pushed down on her, burying his nose into her neck, tongue darting out and tasting the salty hint of sweat. Maka whimpered when his teeth brushed over her tantalizing skin.  
(how easy it would be to bite down)  
Maka was shaking against him, body rigid as he buried his nose against her pulse, the monster becoming harder and harder to fight down.  
He was going to kill her.  
Looking up at her, Maka gasped.  
The red eyes were gone, replaced once again by the terrifying black. His teeth gnashed together, face contorted when he threw himself at her.  
Maka was prepared to scream. She was going to die, but not without a fight.  
What he did instead surprised her.  
His lips were rough against hers as he bit and pulled at her lips. He tangled his hands in her hair pulling her closer, though he was already on top of her. In the few seconds he had her lips, Maka kissed him back hungrily, pulling him closer by his ruined shirt. For a moment, what happened mere seconds ago was gone from her head.  
He pulled back seconds later, his eyes a wild red. Soul jumped away from her, like he'd been burnt. Maka heaved, her chest heavy.  
"What the hell are you," she whispered, though instead of disgust, he heard genuine curiosity.  
Soul didn't know how to respond.  
(I'm a monster  
I'm a killer  
I'm a murderer)  
"I'm a mutant, if you had to put a label on it." He finally said, rage beginning to thrum through him.  
"Wha-what do you mean," Maka mumbled, pulling her scarlet cloak closer to her body.  
"Someone took me and-and did something. I'm like a wolf. A crazed, murderous wolf. A wolf in a human body." He laughed without humor. "I can hear your heart, I can run faster. My bones are some cruel twist between human and animal. I wasn't born with these teeth. I was made like this, to kill.  
"I don't remember my life before. Just the blood and the killings. I can't control it. I could have killed you, but I didn't," he finished, pacing the length of the loft in too quick strides.  
"What stopped you?" Maka asked, her voice brave and strong though she was pale and shaking.  
With that he looked at her. "I don't know."  
They looked at each other, Maka's green eyes skirting around Soul's features, and his eyes glued to her face.  
"Wolves," Maka began, face thoughtful, "have mates. And- the male feels a certain…need to help, to protect, his female. Maybe, because you're already so like a wolf," she tapered off leaving it at that, face a bright red even in the dark of the cottage.  
Then he remembered.  
He had asked for her help.  
He'd never done that before, with anyone. Nor has he ever wanted to keep someone alive.  
Maka eyed his reaction, taking a deep breath before standing from the bed and padding over to him, her feet forgotten.  
"Get mad," she said, pushing his chest and cornering him against the wall.  
"Maka-"  
She stepped up to him, her chest pressed against his.  
The result was almost instantaneous. He could feel every little flutter of her heart, every little breath as she moved to purposefully test her theory. He could see her pulse jumping in her throat and his resolve slipped. He licked his lips, lowering his head to her neck, his sharp teeth biting into the soft flesh, when he yanked back.  
He couldn't. He couldn't kill her.  
She beat away his insanity because she cared. Even though he didn't deserve it, even though she didn't have to.


	4. Day 4: Loyalty

It was well known throughout Shibusen that Soul Evans was the hottest guy around.

Everyone knew who he was; guys wanted to be him and girls wanted to date him. Though most didn't have to guts to talk to him. So what did they do instead?

Shove pink and white and red little envelopes sealed with sparkly hearts into his locker and he even found a few in his backpack. _His fucking backpack._

It was like Valentine's Day throwing up on all of his stuff.

He _hated_ it.

He had a partner, Maka, and she was a fucking awesome person. He hated how everyone disregarded her, like she was nothing more than a pawn Soul used to collect souls. Hell, if it weren't for Maka, Soul would have nothing.

As their status continued to rise, Soul's admirers steadily increased as well.

He noticed them, trailing him and Maka in the halls, following them to the cafeteria, outside while they trained.

They were everywhere and he couldn't escape.

It was easy for Maka, she could just slip away and no one would ask any questions. He floundered when she wasn't around because when she wasn't at his side, the girls swarmed.

Their voices would topple each other, making it hard to figure out who was saying what. They would shove each other out of the way to get to Soul, to try and capture his attention, if even for a few seconds. Some even tried hanging onto him like crazed monkeys.

As soon as he saw the chance, he fled.

Soul would fin Maka in the library not long after, sitting at a table and reading a book. When she looked up, her face held no expression.

He wasn't stupid. He knew how Maka had to feel.

Unimportant. Unneeded. Insignificant.

He tried his hardest to make it known that he wasn't looking for a new partner, that he didn't _need_ a new partner, but his voice went unheard.

The last happened at the hands of a stiff girl with auburn hair.

She had sauntered up to him, her face serious, grabbed his lapels and kissed him.

Soul stood, wide eyed, anger bubbling inside his chest. He yanked back, the shock sending the girl stumbling over her own feet.

It took Soul a mere second to find Maka in the crowd, books clutched to her chest, eyes angrier than he'd ever seen them, but also somewhat sad.

Five quick strides was all it took for Soul to show up in front of her and less than a second for him to grab her waist and tug her against him. He tilted her head and leaned down, letting his lips slide onto her soft ones. He barely heard as her books tumbled to the tiled floor and her fingers wrapped around his hair.

What he did hear, when he pulled away, were the outraged huffs and shrieks of over a dozen girls as Soul swooped down and picked up Maka's all but forgotten books, before taking her hand and leading her out of the school.


	5. Day 5: Wounds; part I

The fight starts out like any other.

Maka's boots thump loudly against the streets as she chases down their latest assignment, her breath long and even. Soul watches from his blade, making sure no one sneaks up on them, unsuspecting.

"There!" Soul shouts, voice slightly garbled, as he sees a huge, bulky figure dash into an ally. He catches Maka's nod from the corner of his eye.

Skidding to a stop in front of the ally, Maka holds Soul out threateningly, the red and black blade casting an eerie moonlight shadow.

The man in front of them, though no longer a man, is hulking, his body ten times the size of Maka. Half of his face in burned, the other half dirty, covered in scars and bruises. His chest resembles a barrel and three blades covered in old blood make up one hand. He smiles, his teeth sickeningly white against his face.

Soul can hear Maka gulp, and detects the slight waver in her voice, though she does her best to hide it.

"Your soul is mine!" she yells, running forward and swinging Soul. He feels body heat, but he barely skims the man. Maka skids back, pigtails flying as she attempts to follow him with her eyes.

Easily, he jumps off of the side of the brick building, landing behind Maka with a thump that makes even Maka jump from impact. He rushes at her and she spreads her legs, skirting to the side as he rams into the multiple dumpsters and trashcans with a clang. While his back is turned, Maka rushes, blade swinging. Unlike last time, Maka got his arm, sliding down until he reared back with a frustrated yell.

He rushes at Maka, eyes bulging with anger. Green eyes wide, Maka turns, boots kicking up pebbles as she sprints out of the ally. Her breathing is already slightly labored, Soul notices, as she ducks into and around corners.

The man is always right on their tail, and it seems, as Maka slows, he picks up his pace.

They run throughout the perimeter of almost all of Death City, Maka huffing, doubled over, as her breath doesn't make it to her lungs. Her eyes are blurred, colors blending together and blackness creeping in at the edges. Her lips are dry, her lungs burn and her legs are going to give out at any seconds. She feels Soul's erratic wavelength as he thinks about possible solutions, even as he tries to calm Maka's even more frantic wavelength.

She blinks, keeping her eyes closed for a few seconds longer and when she opens them, she's tumbling down stair after stair after stair. Soul flies out of her grasp, clattering to the solid concrete with a clang, and sliding to the edge of the buildings, half hidden in shadow.

"MAKA!" he shouts, shifting from scythe to man and running to his partner as she struggles from the ground, her arms wobbling and her legs shaking violently. Her legs are covered in scratches and, when she stands, Soul notices as she favors one leg over the other. Bright red blood drips from the corner of her lips, staining her white shirt, which is ripped in several places, buttons having come undone during the fall. Soul is almost to her, Maka having tried to meet him halfway, when there is an inhumane howl and the man is blotting out the moon, the dirty blades catching the moonlight and glinting.

Maka tries even harder to escape his shadow, Soul picks up his pace, but the man lands almost on top of his partner, sending her sprawling past him.

He curses, changing his direction to try and reach her before the kishin does.

Maka's limping, one pigtail coming undone and her face contorted in pain.

With one last jump, the man is on her back, both of them rolling around. Maka is pinned to the bottom, a surprised scream ripping from her. Soul is sprinting, but they just keep rolling, farther and farther away, when Maka's scream is cut off, turning instead into a hollowed gurgle.

The man's blades are buried in her right side, blood pooling around her. He is smiling, digging them in slowly while Maka continues to struggle, thrashing around.

Soul lets loose an inhumane yell of his own, shifting one arm into a scythe and plunging it into the man's back, fast and quick, the only thought running through his mind is of Maka, lying on the hard ground and bleeding.

A soul appears with nothing but a gurgle as Soul removes his blade, once again an arm.

"Maka, Maka can you hear me?" he panics, dragging her head onto his bent knees. She's pale, blood pouring out of her side, coating the road, her side and Soul. It's warm, and it _won't stop_. He pushes both of his hands to her side, trying to staunch the bleeding. Blood drips at a steady stream from her mouth, her eyes hooded and dim as they look up at him. Her clothes are ruined, the white shirt torn apart and her checkered skirt all red. Her arm hangs limply across Soul's lap, one leg crumpled beneath the other, the other shining a sickly red. Her breathing is stuttered, breaths shallow and wet.

Shibusen looms in front of them, close but not close enough. Soul is going through all of his options, brain working at a rapid fire pace.

He decided his only options were either letting his meister bleed out or run to Shibusen and find Stein.

It takes him less than a second to gather Maka up in his arms, holding her to her chest. Running as fast as he possibly can, he feels her skin as it hangs from her stomach, feels the blood slowing, her body temperature dropping, hears how her breath becomes more intermittent and wheezy. Her head falls from his shoulder, hair ties finally snapping as her hair tumbles, ends bloody against his arm, as her body finally gives a final heave and relaxes in his grip.

His own blood is rushing in his ears, his breathing rapid as he tries to contain his fear. He runs up the Shibusen stairs faster than ever and the doors fly open with a bang when his shoulder connects with them.

Random faculty littler the halls, staying late and doing work. Alarmed mutters and whispers arise.

"Is that Death Scythes daughter?"

"What happened?"

" _Is she alive?"_

"Someone find Stein!" Soul yells, irritated that they all stand there in shock as Maka's blood drips slowly onto the shiny tile floors. They scatter in different directions, two teachers eventually coming with Stein, Nygus and Kim in tow with a gurney.

"Put her there. Now," Stein commands, immediately going to Maka's side and ripping the rest of her ruined shirt away from her body. Nygus and Kim exchange worried glances.

Maka's stomach, once soft and pale and unblemished is barely noticeable as a stomach. Skin hangs off in chunks, and everything is so _red_ and twisted _._

He follows them to Stein's office, where Stein pushes against his bloody chest, hand firm.

"You need to stay here."

"She's my meister!" he shouted, though his voice sounded far away in his own ears.

"And she'll need you here when she wakes up." Stein rushed, dark green eyes troubled as he hurried into the room, where Nygus and Kim were already hurrying around Maka.

From the small window, Soul watched as Stein pulled medical tools from the side of the room over, prepping work on Maka while Nygus pulled out defibrillator.

Sliding down the door, Soul barely noticed as his vision clouded.


	6. Day 6: Bandages; part II

Soul stayed against the door for two hours before their friends showed up.

He wondered who told them.

Tsubaki had tears streaming down her face, and as soon as she saw Soul, pushing himself off the door with his arms, she rushed to him pulling him to her in a bone-crushing hug.

Liz and Patti threw themselves into the hug next, each one crying like Tsubaki.

Black Star and Kid were more reserved, their faces pale and expressions a mix of worry, fear, and sadness. They walked over to Soul, their hands warm as they each grasped his shoulders before trying to calm their hysterical partners.

He slid down the wall, a few inches from the door, his once white shirt cracking. Maka's blood had dried, dark red coating his entire body, from his hands to his ankles and the bottom of his shoes.

He stares at his hands, blood cracking with each movement. He feels heavy, like everything is passing by much faster and he can't keep up.

He's still staring at his hands when Tsubaki pulls him up, her long arms solid around his back.

"Go home, take a shower. We'll stay here," she whispers, her voice raspy. Soul looks to the window, but someone had covered it up. Looking at his bloodied shirt and pants, he decides a shower would be best.

Maka's blood felt heavy on his body.

Unlocking the door, he walks into their apartment, kicking off his shoes and struggling out of his clothes, tossing them on his way to the bathroom. He doesn't bother to pick them up.

He lets the hot water pound his body and swirl red down the drain and in thirty minutes, he's out and on his way back to the school.

Kid is pacing in front of the windows, Tsubaki, Liz and Patti leaning on each other and Black Star is leaning near the door, watching the blacked out window.

It was hard to forget how close Maka and Black Star were.

Soul sat back against the wall, eyes closed, though sleep wouldn't come.

It was six hours, before Kim walked out, looking completely exhausted. She was pale, her pink hair extremely white against her face. Her hands were shaking when she touched Soul's shoulder.

He startled awake, managing to fall asleep, and noticed everyone else awake. Tsuabki was sitting at the edge of her chair, hands gripping Black Star's arm so hard his arm was turning red. Liz and Patti were leaning on Kid, Patti grasping his hand tightly.

"I think," Kim began, choosing her words carefully, voice quiet. "That she'll be okay."

A sigh of relief went through room.

Tsubaki released Black Stars arm and Black Star stood up, pulling her to him in a giant hug. Liz and Patti smiled, crushing Kid in a hug. Soul stared at Kim, her words slowly registering before hugging her hard.

"She'll be a few more hours, and she'll be asleep afterwards, but she'll be okay." Kim smiles, before leaving Maka's closest friends to celebrate.

Almost as if it's too much to bare, Soul slumps against the wall and the group is swarming him in a large hug.

Three hours later and Stein and Nygus are slipping out from behind the door, each one bloody.

Soul shoots out of his seat before anyone else senses what's happening.

"She's alive and sleeping." Stein says, cleaning blood spatters from his glasses.

"But you can see her," Nygus adds with a look at Stein.

Soul is first to push through the door, Black Star hot on his heels. Everyone almost slams into him when he stops cold.

Maka's chest is falling and rising in a steady rhythm. Half of her body is covered with a blanket, but the upper half, the half that was ripped open, is covered in thick gauze, her entire torso hidden from view. The edge is already slightly red.

Her hair is still tangled and bloody, and scratches and bruises were still visible, though no longer bloody.

Black Star pushes him the rest of the way into the room, anxious to see her himself. Soul hangs back as the rest of the gang pushes through the door. Stein walks in last, standing close to Soul.

"We had to give her three sets of stitches. One set from below her shoulder to her bellybutton, another from the far edge of her waist to slightly over her bellybutton, and the last from her hipbone to a few inches beneath her bellybutton."

Soul flinched; that was three scars.

Nygus walked in last, slipping past Soul and Stein to check Maka's vitals. "She should be able to go home within the week. Maybe a little longer, depending on her recovery."

Soul let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

They all stayed in her room for almost three hours, talking quietly, and beginning to feel tired, when Maka's eyes fluttered open.


	7. Day 7: First I Love You; part III

When she wakes up, she feels dead.

Her head is pounding, she can't feel her limbs and the _pain._

When she opens her eyes, everything is blurry and bright and she closes them again, every movement hurting.

"Maka?" she hears from her side and she lets her lashes lift open slowly.

Soul is on his knees at her elbow, his fingers tight around her limp ones. His red eyes are tired and worried, his lips set in a thin line.

"Hurts," she manages to choke out, trying to tighten her grip on his fingers. Before she lets her eyes slip closed again, she see the swish of a stitched lab coat appear by Soul.

"She says it hurts," Soul whispered, head angled up to Stein.

"That's to be expected." He replies, hanging a bag full of clear liquid and slipping a needle into Maka's pale arm. She meets eyes with Soul once more before the drugs take over and she's falling into oblivion.

Soul watches her through the night, taking up residence in the uncomfortable chair Nygus had brought him.

Her room is dark, the only lights coming from all of the beeping machines and the thin white strip above her bed.

Soul looks at her for what feels like hours. They were lucky. _He_ was lucky. He had always known Maka was important to him but he had never entertained the idea of losing her for long because what weapon would?

Of course, he thought about it more and more often as their missions became harder and harder and Maka suffered from more injuries. But the possibility of losing her never seemed real. She was strong, she was brave.

She was too stubborn to die.

He felt guilty. As a weapon, it was Soul's job to protect her.

And he failed.

He knew for a fact Maka's heart stopped beating.

He knew he had lost her, even for a few seconds.

His hands dwarf her tiny fingers, his arms huge against her body. Laying his head next to her, he tries to push the thoughts away.

Maka awakes to a heavy weight on her arm. Unlike yesterday, everything is numb, but she supposes it's better than the pain. Tilting her head to the side, her cheek falls on top of Soul's white hair, soft under her face.

He stirs, fingers tightening around Maka's.

"Soul?" she whispers, trying to nudge him with her shoulder.

Her only reply is a grumble. Smiling slightly, Maka leans her head on his and lets the drugs take over once again.

It takes two and a half weeks before Stein allows Maka to go home and even then she's filled with so many drugs, Soul practically has to drag her home.

Her waist is thick, covered in multiple layers of gauze and her head is rolling on his shoulder.

She's giggling, slumped on Soul's chest as he unlocks the door and hauls her in.

He's glad he brought one of his shirts before she was released, seeing as hers were too small with all of the gauze, when she stumbled out of his grip to plop onto the couch.

He slams the door with a huff.

"Soulie," Maka sings, draping herself over the arm of the couch with another round of giggles.

Soul rests his head against the wooden door. As happy as he was that Maka was alive, she was a handful when she was high.

Pushing himself away from the door, he grabs a blanket and a glass of water before making his way to his stoned meister.

She's almost asleep, her eyes hooded, when she looks at Soul.

"I luh you, Soulie," she says before closing her eyes, her head falling to her chest.

He stands there, wide eyed, still with the blanket in his hands.

He was certain of how he felt an hour after she was whisked away from him so Stein could save her life. He didn't want to entertain the thought that she felt the same in the case that she _didn't._

But Maka had told him.

She _loved_ him.

She was also stoned out of her mind.

Soul huffed, dropping the blanket on his partner before occupying the open square at the end, throwing his arm over his eyes and letting his head fall back.

When Maka woke up, her side was throbbing, Soul's shirt twisted around her stomach. An orange blanket was tangled around her legs, and her feet were thrown over Soul's lap. His hands were warm on her calves and he startled awake when she moaned, untwisting her shirt.

"Stupid," Soul muttered, standing up, "Don't do that." He reached over her, slipping his hands under the shirt to separate it carefully from her body. His hands were sticky with blood when he pulled away.

"I think I need to change your bandages," he said, pulling her pills from his pocket. "Here, take these and I'll go find the first aid kit." Maka nods, flinching as she grabs the water on the table.

Pulling the first aid kit from the hallway closet, he pulled out the gauze and some ointment. Setting them in the bathroom, he walks back to the sofa to help Maka, who was clutching her side while trying to walk straight.

Slipping behind her, he pulls one of her arms over his shoulders, Maka leaning all of her weight into him, but still trying to walk straight. He smiles.

Soul gently grabs her hips, helping her onto the edge of the sink. Maka peals the shirt off carefully, her once white gauze now red and pink.

The awkwardness in their relationship fled long ago, and Soul easily slips between her legs, arms reaching behind her back to unravel the bandages. Maka hisses through her teeth as the bloody gauze peels away from her tender skin.

Soul can clearly see the scratches now. They're a puckered, irritated red, the stitches placed at random angles and lengths. The gashes are long and cover almost all of her tiny stomach. Soul can't help but flinch.

Maka sighs, eyes clenched as she balls her hands into fists on his chest. Her legs wrapped around his, clenching and unclenching as he continues to pull away layers of gauze.

When Soul pulls back, he sees a small strapless black bra covering her chest.

And the slashes, long and irritated with blood dripping down her skin.

His breath hitches as he reaches out, running his fingers tentatively over her once smooth skin. Maka's skin shudders as his touch and she whimpers, her chin jutting into Soul's collarbone.

He skims the black stitches, the puckered skin, wishing he could take back that night.

"I love you, Maka," he says, fingers trailing the stitches.

He feels her breathing hitch, her fists relax, her feet twisting at his thighs. She pulls her head from his chest, eyes glistening, the drugs just starting to take effect, before leaning up. Soul meets her half way, slanting his lips against hers in a breath of a kiss.

Maka holds her breath, about to pull away, when Soul leans back in, his lips warm and slow against hers.

She sighs against his lips.

"I love you."


End file.
